


Fury of the Small

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode 12, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: After the confrontation at the High Richter's house, Nott corners Fjord for a word. Written immediately after the twelfth episode, and thus not canon-compliant after that point.





	Fury of the Small

It's a quiet night in the Leaky Tap, and Fjord is mid-yawn halfway up the stairwell when he hears the faintest creak. A pair of familiar golden eyes glint from the shadows on the landing. He stops, bracing one hand against the splintered wall.

“Nott?”

“Fjord,” she says. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Of – of course,” he says. He still can't see her, only her eyes. That's a bad, _bad_ sign. He's seen what happens to people who lose track of Nott in a fight. “Is this about the other night? The – in my room?”

“A little bit,” she says. “And about what happened at the High Richter's house.”

“Oh?” he asks. Shit. “You know, we were all stressed, it had been a frightening night, we maybe lost our tempers –”

“Fjord?” she says. “Shut up.”

Fjord shuts up. He can still hear Wessick in the taproom below, clinking around behind the bar. Nott's gentle, as goblins go, and she's smart as _anyone_ goes; she's not about to kill him in cold blood on the stairwell. She's not.

“You made me a promise,” she said. “Do you remember it? It was only two days ago.”

“I – I do,” Fjord says. “Of course I do. I got him out, didn't I?”

“You had that _fucking_ sword of yours at his throat!” Nott's voice rises towards a muted shriek. Fjod can hear her drag in a deep breath and rein herself back in. “You promised me you would keep him alive. I shouldn't have had to protect him from you!”

“I wasn't really going to hurt him,” Fjord tries. “I just wanted him to know I was serious, because, Nott, he put all of us in danger there, including himself –”

“I'm a goblin, not an idiot.”

Fjord's mouth snaps shut.

“You would have killed him if you had to,” Nott says. “You would've killed me too. You didn't have to promise me anything, if that's the way it is. I didn't use any magic on you.”

“I wasn't lying when I said it,” Fjord tries, and it's at least half true. “I did mean to keep him safe if I can. I still do –”

There's a short, sharp sound, and a wad of spittle flies out of the darkness and catches him in the cheek, just under his eye. The words die in his throat.

“I should have let that fucking manticore kill you,” Nott says. There's a faint scrape, and her eyes vanish into the darkness.

Fjord waits for a long, slow moment – for twenty pounding heartbeats – and beats a slow, shaken retreat back to the taproom.

“Well,” another voice says, and Fjord nearly jumps straight through the ceiling. It's Molly, tankard in hand, leaning against the wall by the base of the stairs without a trace of shame on his face.

“You heard that, huh,” Fjord says, resigned.

“Enough,” Molly says. Fjord blows out a puff of air between his lips.

“I think we fucked up,” he says.

It would be entirely fair for Molly to argue that _Fjord_ fucked up; Molly wasn't even in the house when it all went to shit. Instead Molly only nods, contemplative and slow. “Yeah, I think we did,” he says, and takes a swig of his beer.

“What... what'd you make of all that?” Fjord asks. He's not sure how he'll ever be able to sleep with Nott on watch again; hell, he's not sure he wants to sleep in the same inn. Maybe they'll wake up in the morning, and she and Caleb will be gone; it twinges at him to think of it, but maybe that'd be best for everyone. At least he'd know they made their choice.

“I think,” Molly says, “that I hope Caleb guards her back as closely as she guards his.” Fjord blinks.

“What?”

“Have you noticed?” Molly asks. “She asked us to protect Caleb, not her. She came after you for threatening him, not for fucking with her. I don't like to get people's secrets that way; I wouldn't blame her for being pissed off about it. But if she is, she hasn't said anything.”

“What's your point?” Fjord asks. “We know she cares about him. _Needs_ him, apparently.”

“She won't stand up for herself,” Molly says. “She's not a coward, whatever she says. But she's not brave on her own behalf.”

“I... suppose you're right,” Fjord says, blinking, thinking back. “Suppose you're right. Would you say that makes her any less dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Molly raises his eyebrows. “I don't know. But I'd say I think she deserves better than whatever's come her way.”

Something prickles at the back of Fjord's neck. “Caleb did put us all at risk,” he says. “I stand by that. He and Nott need to decide if they're working with us or if they're only out for themselves, because otherwise they're going to get us all killed.”

“Maybe,” Molly says. “Maybe. But for now, I'm going to bed.” He pauses, dropping his tankard on a nearby table. “I'll tell you this, though. I wouldn't mind having her watch my back like that. I could stand to lose a few buttons in exchange, too. And I feel strongly about my clothes.”

And with that, he vanishes up the stairs. Fjord heaves a sigh, glances around the empty taproom, and makes his way over to Wessick. It's turning into a night for another drink.

 


End file.
